


Something (Someone) More Important

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aristocratic Pendragons, Arthur-centric, Awesome Morgana, Epistolary, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Morgana Pendragon/Gwen (Merlin), PTSD (mentioned), Pining Arthur, Self Confidence Issues, confident merlin, sad Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 14:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: In the midst of trying times for himself and his family in 1920s post-war England, Arthur Pendragon, heir apparent of Pendragon Estates, thinks he hasmetthe man of his dreams and is more content than he recalls ever being. As fate so often does, however, it cruelly rips the two apart before Arthur can find out if his feelings are reciprocated. Navigating the ever-shifting landscape of his life in the aftermath proves cumbersome and disheartening, but a chance meeting changes everything.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merlinsdeheune (sindhunathi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sindhunathi/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** Thank you to my beta, and many thanks to the mods for keeping this wonderful fest going. 
> 
> Merlinsdeheune, every second of crafting this story was an absolute joy. One of the reasons I love Hols as much as I do is because it gives me the opportunity to create something specifically for someone based on their preferences. It was a fun challenge to come up with this scenario using one of your prompts. Happy Merlin Holidays!

As the train pulled out of Perilous Lands Station, Arthur wasn’t sure how he felt. Should he be more disappointed to be leaving the peace and solitude of Nemeth, where he and his sister, Morgana, had been in residence over the past six months, or relieved about returning to Camelot, where unwanted realities and his father, the Earl of Albion, awaited him? He thought the answer should be an easy one, but it wasn’t. 

By all rights, it would make sense for Arthur to be more disappointed about leaving. He and the Pendragon patriarch had, at the best of times, a contentious relationship, but his father was his family—he knew Arthur better than anyone other than Morgana. It would be good to see him again now that he was well, or at least recovering from complications from a severe case of cholera, which he had contracted whilst in Russia on a business trip.

As much as Arthur looked forward to a fresh start with his father, however, being away from Camelot for such an extended time had been freeing in a way he could never have envisioned. The distance from the surroundings that had recently caused him immense distress had been cathartic. 

Rather than his father dictating his daily schedule, Arthur had basked in the novelty of doing what made _him_ happy. He had foregone the numerous hunts he’d been invited on, instead choosing to help those in need. 

That change, as well as others he’d become accustomed to, had invigorated the twenty-five year old and brought a spark back that had been missing since before he left to be part of the Great War in 1917. 

These new and exhilarating elements to his life were rewarding; leaving them behind wouldn’t be an option. But Arthur was no fool. He knew that returning home would necessitate him taking on far more responsibilities than he’d had before he left.

According to Gaius, the doctor who had seen their family through three generations of births and deaths, it would be a long while before Uther Pendragon was fully recovered, and Arthur wondered if he would _ever_ be the same. 

The reality was that his father would likely never be as he was before. It was a realisation Arthur tried not to think about because doing so inevitably caused his anxiety to rear itself. This time was no different. He closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down; worrying over what he could not change would behoove no one.

Once his breathing returned to normal, Arthur looked to his left and was pleased to see his sister sleeping. She had left early that morning and gone into the village to help their cousin, Mithian, with errands. This normally wasn’t a tiring endeavour, but as Morgana was getting over a beastly cold, Arthur knew that the slightest amount of exertion tired her. 

He had suggested they delay their departure a few days to allow her more time to recover, but once Mithian’s doctor assured everyone that Morgana was no longer contagious, she had insisted they keep their original schedule.

She was eager to get back to her _dear friend,_ Gwen (who was much more than that, and everyone knew it, including their father, even if he insisted to the outside world that they were merely friends), but per her own words, as much as she looked forward to seeing Gwen, she was also ready to return to care for her father.

The thought brought a smile to Arthur’s face. When he’d returned home from the war, physically uninjured, but emotionally unwell, Morgana had been the one to nurse him back to health. Most everyone, his father included, had said Arthur was fine and just needed to get on with life, but his dear sister, bless her kind heart, hadn’t bought into that way of thinking and had helped Arthur get through those trying times, of which there had been many. 

There still were, but those days numbered less with each passing year.

Arthur would never be able to repay his sister’s kindness.

Morgana resting, a thankful and maudlin Arthur reached into his overcoat pocket and retrieved the bundle of parchments within and looked around to be sure no one was paying him any heed. Seemingly alone with his thoughts, he carefully withdrew the one on top and opened the folded paper. A small smile immediately lit up his face at the now familiar handwriting.

Seeing it was a balm upon Arthur’s tormented soul, though it was somewhat disquieting to think just how intimately he felt towards the cousin of a cousin who he’d last seen at the age of five. But more importantly was the feeling of calm that had surrounded Arthur these past few weeks as he and Merlin had exchanged correspondence. 

In the midst of upheaval regarding his father; other business-related issues having to do with his home and surrounding land; his muddled, non-existent love life, as well as a myriad of other unfortunate obstacles that seemed to greet him at every corner, Arthur’s unintended _friendship_ had been the highlight of the past month.

He could only hope that a change of address would not necessitate him giving up this newly found _acquaintance_ , which didn’t begin to describe the relationship between the two, but what did one call someone who had written you ten times and you replied to each the very day of its receipt?

Morgana would most assuredly call him a funny egg if she knew how attached he had become, but Arthur understood his sister well enough to know that she’d follow that up by telling him to get on with it and see where things went.

 

_Dear Arthur,_

_When I heard that your father had taken ill and that you and your sister were relocated to my dear cousin Mithian’s home, I was saddened. My memories of your father are vague at best, but I recall a huge room with flowers, plants, and huge stones within. Am I close to describing a room within your magnificent home? If not, please forgive my absentmindedness. This is the room that comes to mind when I think of your father, yet it could be that I am remembering another home I was once in. I am sad to say I do not recall you, but as I was only three years of age at the time, that is to be expected._

_How much longer will you and your sister be in this part of the country? It would be a happy occasion if we could meet before you return to your home. My job and schooling keep me busy most days, but I would make the time to come see you and your dear sister if you would be amenable to such._

_Mithian tells me that you are an avid horse rider. I, too, share your affection for horses and find that I would rather be out riding than engaging in any other pastime. It is such a freeing feeling, galloping through the countryside, not a care in the world, the wind blowing through your hair and leaving it in disarray._

_I should apologise. I do tend to forget myself when speaking of my love for the outdoors and horses, but as that is not the reason I have written, let me speak of that before you decide I am not worthy of your time._

_I am aware that Mithian has shared with you what and who I am. It is not an easy life I have chosen to live, yet it is the life I have chosen and I could not be happier, even if it is a lonely existence. Please know you are not alone._

_I was distressed to hear of the unfortunate happenings with Lady Vivian, but excuse me for being forthright with my words when I say that you will be better off without her. We are living in a changing world, Arthur, one that will leave you behind if you do not progress. Marriage for the sake of carrying on a name and keeping a way of life might have been the normative and expected move for your father’s generation, but in this new world we are entering, do you not agree that we should try to live for ourselves, at least somewhat? What about life is worth living if you choose to live it for someone else and not yourself?_

_I fear I have prattled on for far too long and overstepped what is permissible. I am reminded daily that I do not know when to halt my incessant philosophical meanderings. I do not agree with this assessment, but perhaps you will. I do tend to think differently from most, after all._

_Farewell, Arthur. I do hope to receive a reply from you, but if not, I shan’t fret._

_Take care of yourself._

__

__

_Merlin_

 

Arthur closed his eyes and thought about the words Merlin had written in that first letter he’d received four weeks earlier, each one important and thoughtful. The musings hadn’t been empty platitudes that people so often shared in correspondence; they had been from the heart.

Not many others would dare write about the things Merlin had. Even as he had been discreet with his words, Arthur knew he had made it clear that he shared Arthur’s proclivity to being attracted to males. 

Mithian had spoken to Arthur of her cousin soon after Morgana and he had arrived, and she emphatically and unapologetically encouraged their correspondence. Her _meddling_ in his love life had initially been frowned upon, but once Arthur received that first letter and read the part where Merlin told Arthur that it was a good thing that his impending engagement had been called off, Arthur had forgiven her and decided that she was the most amazing of cousins.

As he carefully folded the parchment and returned the bundle to his coat pocket, Arthur grinned. This Merlin was an odd one, that was for sure, but there was something refreshing about him that made Arthur want so very badly to meet him in person. This back and forth correspondence, as rewarding as it was, was no longer enough.

Unfortunately, it would have to be, at least for now. Merlin had received an urgent missive the week before and had immediately boarded a train and left. It was an unfortunate development that disheartened Arthur; he had been so sure that the two would meet soon, but now he doubted that they would ever meet. 

Arthur took a shaky breath and slowly let it out. Why was it that fate chose to dangle a sprig of happiness before him for a few fleeting moments only to yank it away so callously? 

“You look troubled,” whispered Morgana. “Do you not wish to see Father?”

Arthur shrugged his shoulders, but a frown from his sister had him clearing his throat. How best to answer without encouraging an onslaught of questions that would be never-ending? He set his shoulders and allowed the smallest of grins, not quite feeling it but wishing to placate his well-meaning sister. “Believe it or not, Morgana, I am looking forward to seeing Father. At least I know _he_ will not have changed.”

On second thought, perhaps he should have chosen his words more carefully because of course his father would be greatly changed after being confined to bed for such an extended period. But Arthur knew Morgana would understand what he meant. He sighed deeply and glanced at the window and watched the ever-changing landscape.

Change. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Just the week previous, Arthur had received correspondence from his cousin, Leon, informing him that Essetir House had been sold and was to be demolished to make way for several smaller country homes that would certainly be hideous. It was a blow to the gut, and Arthur wondered how long it would be before his family was hit with the wave of demolition and destruction of everything he held dear.

He despaired that it might be sooner rather than later, and he understood that there would never be a _later_ that would deem this inevitability bearable.

“Hm,” Morgana sighed with the slightest hint of laughter. “Then you must be referring to your arranged marriage with dearest Lady Vivian that never happened because her father called off the engagement after his daughter’s honour was besmirched, am I correct?” Morgana stated rather haughtily as she placed a dainty gloved hand on his.

Arthur attempted to hide his amusement as he turned to look at her. She was now wide awake, grinning, but it was not an expression that was the least bit sincere, and it reminded Arthur that his _sweet_ sister had a side to her that he fervently hoped was never directed towards him.

“Well, Morgana,” he said, with more than a bit of mirth, “what else was Vivian’s father to do when he heard the rumours that his daughter’s nearly betrothed was caught in a compromising position with a male?”

Nothing about his statement was funny, but Arthur found himself smirking nonetheless, his usual self-deprecation in full force. His father had thought his son an epic failure before the unfortunate events of ten months past, and that feeling had increased since. Arthur couldn’t seem to stop fulfilling his father’s low expectations. He wondered who else he was a disappointment to.

But at least there was one thing Arthur was good for. No matter how much of a disappointment he was in his father’s eyes, Arthur was vital to the future of Pendragon Estates. If nothing else would bring his father and him together, this would.

Morgana gave him a reproachful look as she glanced around the carriage before leaning in so she could whisper in his ear. “Yes, well, you were rather lucky Lady Vivian’s father didn’t hunt you down with one of his dogs,” she said, a frown creasing her forehead. “Still, as much as it would have hurt me to see you and Vivian forced to marry, I think it would have been a good match, one that Lord Olaf would have benefitted from. Our name would have given Vivian and her family prestige, and Vivian’s family’s money would have meant we’d be stable for the foreseeable future. He should have swallowed his pride,” she said, taking out her fan and waving it over her face as she turned her head and looked at the passing scenery. “After all, you were prepared to do much more than that. It is a sight more than I would be willing to do in your situation. You are a far better man than I or he will ever be, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Your faith in me is misplaced, Morgana,” Arthur said exasperatedly, not wishing to get into an argument with her, but neither did he want to dwell on his bleak prospects for the duration of their journey home. “Can we speak of something less distressful? Please?” he begged, knowing it would probably not work, but he had to try. He dearly loved his sister and was thankful she accepted him for who he was, but oftentimes she saw things in him that weren’t there and it vexed Arthur to listen to her showering him with praise when it was undeserved.

She was that way with most everyone; she accepted people for who they were. It was a rare quality, especially in someone with as much privilege as Morgana. 

As Gaius’s wife, Alice, reminded Morgana often, she was far ahead of her time. She was a progressive thinker—always had been—and she had been a spitfire from the second she came to live with her father and half-brother, fifteen years ago. Life had never been the same.

Arthur envied her.

Not that he wasn’t above or beneath going against the grain of society the same as his sister (he did prefer the company of others who shared the same anatomy as he had, after all, and he had partaken in their pleasures whenever the opportunity presented itself), but, unlike his sister, who seemed to live for herself—everyone else and their closed-minded thoughts be damned—he had attempted to toe the line and ensure the longevity of his legacy. 

His family’s ancestral home had been in his family for more than 500 years, and he’d known from the time he was a wee tot that it would eventually fall to him to be the responsible one that ensured its future.

To do that, he’d always known that he would need to find a lovely young lady, marry her, and sire an heir. Then, his job done, he could relax and enjoy the fruits of his station in life.

Until the Great War had come along, that had been Arthur’s plan; his future had seemed, if not happy, safe and secure. But everything had changed in 1917 when he turned eighteen and joined his countrymen in defending his beloved homeland.

Eight years onwards, post-war, the landscape of everything had changed and manor houses were disappearing at an alarming rate. It frightened Arthur as he had no idea how to exist in a world that didn’t centre around the home he had been birthed in.

“How was the ball at Gedref Castle?” Morgana asked as she rifled through her handbag and retrieved her handkerchief. When her brother gave a small laugh and a thankful nod, Morgana reached over and gave his hand a light squeeze. “Mithian said you were in rare form. I do hope this is a good thing? I was sorry to miss it, but I did not think it prudent to attend whilst ill.”

“You were missed. It seems there is a dearth of _bright young things_ in this part of England,” Arthur replied half-laughing, half-cringing as he was loath to admit that he was one of those aforementioned bright young things that the older people seemed to both shun and revere. “And I am always on my best behavior,” he added matter-of-factly, looking aghast when Morgana rolled her eyes at him. “I did dance the entire night with Mithian, you will be happy to know. She kept me out of trouble.” He intended to rile his sister, but she was actually laughing.

“Oh, I have no doubt the two of you were not on your best behavior, brother dear,” was Morgana’s flippant response, her green eyes twinkling. “In fact, I am almost certain that you two had a right laugh at the expense of all the older ladies who were wearing their finest, trying to attract the younger gents. Some things never change.” Morgana placed a kiss on her brother’s head. “What would they say if they knew their darling _Prince Arthur_ preferred the company of young virile men rather than rich, older ladies? Don’t you ever change, Arthur.”

The heartache had to be evident on his face as Arthur turned to look at his sister.

Everything was changing, even him. He had tried so very hard for the whole of his life to do what was expected of him, and he still wanted to do that; it was his destiny, after all. But with the ever changing times and the episode with Vivian, which was a huge learning experience, Arthur had been left reeling.

He had never loved her, but the subsequent fallout from her leaving had left him completely broken; he would never be the same. Arthur had been willing to live a lie for stability and continuity, but in the end he had found neither and had been left feeling hollow.

If change was in the air, perhaps it was time for him to embrace it. Or at least wish for it. In the end, Arthur understood that his fate was probably not going to please him, but he did have his dreams, and those dreams, as opposed to his nightmares, weren't at all bad; they were, at times, what kept him going.

The next time he gave a part of his heart away, he wanted everything he’d have to go through to be worth it. He never wanted to settle again. If he ever had to suffer again, for whatever reason, he wanted to say that he would do it all over again.

Yes, he had many _wants_ that might be far-fetched, and he realised they were possibly folly, but have them he did. He owed that way of thinking to his father, as strange as it seemed.

As estranged as Arthur and the Pendragon patriarch could be at times, Arthur knew that his father had loved his mother very much. He had often said that, as heartbroken as he was at the loss of her, he would go through all of it again just to know and love her. When younger, Arthur hadn’t at all understood such sentiment; why would anyone want to go through what his father had again? But now, older and wiser, Arthur thought he could understand.

“Did Mithian speak to you about her cousin?” Morgana asked, putting away her handkerchief. “She told me he wrote you when he found out you were staying with her.”

“She did,” was all Arthur offered. His sister wasn’t aware that he and Mithian’s cousin had been corresponding for the past month, and Arthur intended to keep it that way; it was none of her business. Nevertheless, he needed to give her something or else she would never let it go, especially since she was overly chatty, probably as nervous as he was about seeing their father.

“And?” Morgana asked, no doubt digging for more. She always did, and she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted.

“And nothing, Morgana. He lives in Ealdor with his mother, who has fallen on hard times since her husband’s death. And before you ask, again, yes, he wrote to me, and yes, I did receive the letter. What it said is none of your business.” Arthur smirked. That was the end of it. He shared many things with his sister, but this he would not.

Morgana returned her attention to the darkening hills and trees passing them by, but her reflection via the window was more than enough to let Arthur know that she had received precisely what she’d sought.

~MA~

Arthur stood in the foyer after Monmouth had taken his coat and hat, and looked around, soaking in his surroundings. As a child he had felt swallowed up by the immense dwelling he called home, but with the passage of time he had come to appreciate all that it stood for. Of course, he now knew that his standing was due entirely to the fact that his family owned all the surrounding lands and received payment for such.

That fact oftentimes disturbed him, but he wasn’t sure why. It was his family’s occupation, after all. There were farmers who grew grains for sale, there were craftsmen who made wares for purchase, and there were landowners who provided places for others to live for a price. His family wasn’t any different from any other person making a living in order to exist. They just made more money doing it, and perhaps it was this that bothered Arthur.

Whatever the reason, it was about to be made redundant. Pendragon Estates might last a year, two, maybe three, but one day in the not-too-distant future it would all be gone. As good a businessman as his father had been, the die had been cast with the war, and there was no turning the clock back. There would be no renaissance.

Arthur didn’t quite know what to make of that.

“As requested, the kitchen has sent up sandwiches for you and the Lady Morgana, Master Arthur,” George said as he entered the room and promptly looked around, no doubt assessing the state of things and making sure the staff was doing their job correctly. 

Arthur had to stifle a chuckle. George had always been a bit too uppity for his own good. He wasn’t the butler—he was the first footman—yet he certainly acted as if he were the one in charge. It was the height of insubordination and Arthur wondered why Monmouth allowed such behaviour, but George was astute and proficient, and he kept the household staff in check, whether they appreciated it or not. Arthur had to give him that.

“Do you know if my father is awake or if he has already gone to bed?” he asked. He was famished, but he thought it might be wise to see his father first. The man didn’t like to be kept waiting, especially when it came to his children, no matter how old they were.

“He is being examined as we speak, Sir. He should be ready to receive you and the Lady Morgana after you eat. Will that be all?” George asked, a thin smile plastering his face.

‘Yes, George, thank you, and please accept my thanks for making sure my sister and I were kept abreast of what was going on with Father in our absence.”

The walk to the dining room was another of those moments Arthur found himself having more often since the war. Everywhere he looked he saw memories: some recent, some not, but all of them ones he hoarded and hoped to never forget. Most of them were of him and his nanny, Grunhilda. They’d spent much of their days upstairs, out of the way of his father, but the times he had been allowed to see him had been the highlight of Arthur’s day.

Uther Pendragon had always been gruff, but he had adored his only son as a child, and Arthur was appreciative of such because, at some point (probably around the time Arthur began playing with Morgana’s dolls, which was rather funny in and of itself because Morgana would have rather been out with the boys fighting), that adoration had plummeted. The drastic change in their father-son relationship had been, and still was, devastating and impossible for Arthur to understand.

Looking towards the east window, Arthur remembered the time he had been eating at the table (a rare treat) and had seen a little boy with red curly hair running around on the grounds. That boy had been Leon, his cousin, whose father had recently become the Earl of Essetir. Arthur and Leon had become the best of friends. They still were, even if they only saw each other once, perhaps twice a year.

“I am going to see Gwen after seeing Father,” Morgana said as she entered the room and sat down. “I will be back by breakfast.” The look she gave her brother brooked no response, so Arthur merely gave a curt nod. What else could he do? Tell her that they had just arrived home and that she could wait a day? He would never do that. Had he left the one he loved for six months, well, his father would have had to wait.

Arthur was ashamed that he hadn’t been more attuned to his sister’s heartache at being separated from Gwen for so long; he’d been completely consumed with his own woes. Morgana’s had fled his thoughts. Part of the reasoning was that he wasn’t so sure this relationship was a good thing. Gwen was a teacher in the nearby village. It was a worthy profession, of that Arthur had no doubt, but it was hardly a profession that someone with his and his sister's upbringing would want for a future wife or husband to have. But good or not, his sister was happy, which was a sight more than Arthur was at the moment. Who was he to deter her? Love was love, no matter who you loved.

They ate in relative silence, both exhausted from their travels, and Morgana was not yet fully recovered from her cold. As Arthur chewed his food, he found himself studying his sister, wondering what she would do if they had to give up their home. And what would become of her and Gwen?

Actually, Arthur need not wonder at all, for he knew Morgana would make sure Gwen was taken care of—she would go wherever Morgana went if they were indeed as serious as Morgana led him to believe. And Arthur, as worried as the thought of Morgana and Gwen together made him, knew that when his sister was serious about something or someone, it was for keeps.

They were soon standing at their father’s door, looking pensively at one another, wondering what they would see when the door opened. No matter that Gaius had said in his last correspondence that their father was improving, he had been ill for six months. That was not an insubstantial amount of time. Arthur knew that the man he was about to see would be vastly changed. Thinking what he was about to see on the other side of the door was disconcerting, but time moved on, didn’t it? Nothing ever stays the same.

“He’s waiting for you,” whispered Cenred, their father’s valet, as he opened the door and ushered them inside. “He’s had a full day and tires easily, but seeing you will no doubt raise his spirits.”

“Thank you, Cenred,” Arthur said wistfully, fervently wishing that would be true, but he had his doubts, and he knew that Cenred was only trying to be polite. It was a gesture not lost on Arthur.

Morgana entered first and Arthur followed, a few steps behind, pensive and suddenly unsure of himself. He was grateful that Morgana went to sit on the edge of their father’s bed and began speaking. Arthur curtly nodded to his father when acknowledged, but he left Morgana to it and allowed himself to drift off to more pleasant thoughts until it was his turn to speak to their father.

Merlin came to mind. Arthur knew that he was spending far too much time thinking about someone whom he’d not yet met (meeting at the ages of five and three did not at all count), but it made him happy. Didn’t he deserve that? Especially after what he’d been through with Vivian.

The moment Arthur was free to retire for the night, he planned to write and express his disappointment that Merlin and Mithian wouldn’t be able to visit Pendragon Estates anytime soon. It seemed Merlin had an opportunity to practice the vocation he was apprenticing for, which was a good thing; Arthur wanted Merlin to do well, but the timing was rotten luck.

“Arthur?” a weak voice called out, interrupting Arthur’s thoughts, and he vaguely recognised it as his father’s.

“Father.” Arthur approached the bed and glanced at his sister, who looked at him worriedly. “You are looking well,” he lied, but what else was he to say? _Father, you look like you should be dead?_

“The money is dwindling at an alarming rate, Arthur. There is enough for you and Morgana to live comfortably, but unless we find another source of income, the house will have to be sold within the next few years, and all the land with it.”

Arthur hoped he didn’t look as shell-shocked as he felt. He had not expected that. Not at all. Not that he had expected a warm hug and _Hello, Arthur, you are a sight for sore eyes, my son,_ but maybe he had hoped for a reprieve from the harsh realities they were facing for at least a day.

Yes, it was true that his father had never been one to mince words and protect his children from the inevitable disappointment that life could be, so why would be begin doing so now? But, at least in the past their father would have been loath to admit the situation was dire. Back then he would have fought valiantly until the very end before admitting defeat to his children.

More changes.

Arthur turned to gauge his sister’s response and was at least heartened to see that she looked much better than he felt. Had he expected her to look any other way? Morgana was the epitome of stoicism. Of course, her heart was probably breaking on the inside, but she would never allow anyone else to see or know that. Arthur knew that because he was her half-brother, but no one else would ever have a clue. Well, he guessed Gwen would.

Of course she would. 

Arthur could only dream of one day having someone in his life that knew him so well.

He turned his attention back to his father and took an unsteady breath. “We will be fine, Father, as will you.” There was more to say, but not this night. “You should rest. Gaius will not thank us if we get you too worked up,” he said, trying to bring a touch of levity to the situation.

“Most unfortunately," Arthur's father said, looking sad, “Gaius has taken ill. He has an apprentice, a Mr Ambrosius, who has taken over my care. I thought perhaps you spoke with him before he left, but you must have just missed him.”


	2. Chapter Two

Arthur had just sat down to breakfast when he was summoned to his father’s room. He thought about finishing eating first, but he had a full day planned and decided it best to get this meeting over with; he knew that whatever his father said would most likely leave a sour taste in his mouth, thus, it was best to get it over with and get on with his day.

As he exited the living room, someone was speaking to George at the door. Arthur was almost positive it must be the person treating his father, and he very much wanted to speak to him, but he knew putting his father off wasn’t an option, so meeting Gaius’s replacement would have to wait. 

Arthur hurried up the stairs, feeling somewhat rude about not acknowledging either George or the other, who no doubt had to have seen him ascending the stairs, but they would speak soon. Of that Arthur had no doubt.

He had taken two steps into his father’s room when the reason for his summons was made clear.

“Sophia Tiamore and her father, Aulfric, will be arriving next month for an extended stay. Their home was damaged in a recent storm. They planned to travel to a cousin of theirs whilst repairs to their home were underway, but I invited them to reside with us until such time as they can return to their home.”

Arthur closed the door and took several more steps. He swallowed as he looked down at the floor. It was clear what this meant. His father intended for his son and Aulfric’s daughter to eventually wed.

A chill settled over him. He had hoped his father would have realised his attempts were futile after the debacle with Vivian, but obviously he hadn’t. Arthur looked back at his father and wanted so very badly to tell him that he couldn’t do this anymore, but he wouldn’t, or couldn’t. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to fight with his father, and any arguments he had would be futile; Pendragon Estates was his father’s home—he could invite anyone he wished to, and Arthur had no say so in it. And it wasn’t as if Sophia was a stranger and his father was inviting an unknown into his home.

Sophia had visited once before, immediately following the Great War. She had been pleasant enough, and very beautiful indeed, but the timing had been all wrong. Arthur hadn’t been in any state to court anyone, even a male, at that time.

He had been plagued by horrid dreams and had frequently woken up terrified. Morgana had more often than not been the one to calm him. Many a night she had stayed with him until he fell asleep.

“You wish for me to marry her in order to save our home?” Arthur asked, feeling completely foolish; the answer was as obvious to him as his preferring men must be to his father. “Is Pendragon Estates that important to you?” he asked, knowing he was being disrespectful by asking such a question, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yes, Arthur, it has been since the day I was born. Pendragon Estates, along with you and your sister, are the most important things in my life. It is my duty to pass this home to you, Arthur, and that is what I intend to do.”

Arthur stared at his father, unsure what he should say or do. Did it matter? It wasn’t as if his wants would be validated; they never had been in the past. He gave a curt nod before shaking his head, and when his father sighed and closed his eyes, no doubt disappointed in his son, again, Arthur tensed.

”You weren’t ever going to make this easy on me, were you? Arthur, If you can show me that there is something more important than me leaving you this home, I will listen. Until then, I will do whatever needs to be done to keep it and pass it on to you. We must all play our roles, son. I am truly sorry that yours is such a burden for you. I wish I could change that, but I cannot.”

After his father dismissed him, Arthur left and made his way down to the stables, but he wasn’t in the mood to ride, which was alarming because he was always in the mood to ride.

He sat on a stone bench that had been there for as long as Arthur could remember, and thought about what marrying Lady Sophia would mean.

It would mean an end to their financial woes.

Really, that was all he needed to think about, wasn’t it?

He didn’t want to lose his home; it was a part of him just as it was a part of his father and sister. Leaving it was unthinkable. Yet, marrying someone for their money was wrong. And foregoing being happy was an even worse thought for Arthur.

He had never been a romantic, and he was very much a realist, but if he had learnt one thing in Nemeth, it had been that he deserved to be happy. No, that would almost certainly not happen with Merlin, but there had to be someone out there who could make Arthur happy.

After dwelling on his sad state of affairs for far too long, Arthur decided that he couldn’t think about this at the moment. He had promised Morgana that he’d join her and Gwen for lunch, so that is what he was going to do. He would put all of this away for now and think about it later.

An hour later, a faux-happy Arthur found himself having luncheon with Morgana and Gwen in Gwen’s house, a place he had only ever been in once before. Gwen had once shared the tiny abode with her father, who had most tragically been killed the year before. It was a cramped dwelling with the barest of furnishings, but Gwen seemed to like it well enough, and Morgana thought it quaint.

She would.

Arthur thought it much too small. He could possibly see the appeal for his sister, but it wasn’t for him. Perhaps he wished for something smaller than his family home, but the place he eventually lived in would definitely need to be larger than the house he currently found himself in.

As he continued to study his surroundings, he spotted a sword on the wall. Whoever had forged it had done so with painstaking detail. It was beautiful. Arthur itched to get his hands on it.

“…Arthur and his toys.” Morgana rolled her eyes at him. “My brother is rather smitten with ancient weaponry, Gwen. I fear you will have to guard the sword with your life now,” she joked, giving Arthur a fake smile.

“Don’t listen to her, Guinevere; she knows not what she speaks,” Arthur retorted, realising too late that he had once again called Gwen Guinevere. 

He really did need to break that habit, even if he did think she looked more like a _Guinevere_ and thought it more befitting her. “Sorry,” he said impishly, wanting very much to heed the wishes of the woman his sister loved.

“’s alright, Arthur. You can call me Guinevere. It’s nice, actually. Regal, even. I don’t want anyone else calling me that, mind, but for you I shall make an exception.” She grinned at Morgana, who was looking mildly miffed… if Morgana could be _mildly_ anything. “He’s Arthur, Morgana, he can call me whatever he wishes.”

Morgana let out an exaggerated sigh as well as a laugh. “Good gods, not you, too, Gwen. What is it about him that has women and men acquiescing to his every whim?” But it was said with the mocking anger of a sister who dearly adored her brother, and when she clasped her hands with those of Gwen and gave her a curt nod, that was that.

Such an intimate moment heartened Arthur, yet it reminded him how desperately lonely he was. What he wouldn’t give to have what his sister and Gwen had.

“Whilst the two of you were gone,” Gwen said, breaking the momentary silence, “Gaius fell ill, which of course the two of you know by now. Have you met his apprentice?” Gwen looked intently at Arthur. “He’s, erm, he’s quite handsome,” she finally said, winking. “You should go round and see him.”

“I actually got a brief glance of his back this morning, but I am afraid that was it as he was leaving and I was on my way to see Father,” he said, hoping to not be asked what his father had wanted to speak to him about. “I plan on going to see him soon. He has gone to procure supplies and should be back tomorrow.” He was unsurprised that Gwen hadn’t waited a day before trying to set him up. He chuckled, having long ago resigned himself to the fact that she was determined to find his _true love_ for him.

Gwen grinned and shared a knowing look with Morgana. “Not that you would think so, Arthur, but he is adorable, and the two of you would look fetching together,” she said before looking back at her girlfriend’s brother and winking. She let out a small chuckle when Arthur gave her an affronted look.

“Guinevere,” he said sweetly before looking at his sister, “and Morgana,” he added in his put upon voice that had been copied verbatim from his father, “as enticing as this improbable matchmaking venture of yours seems, just what gives you the idea that he would be interested in me? Not that I am ungrateful about your concern,” he said, only somewhat exaggeratedly, because who was he to turn down an attempt to meet an eligible man, a feat which was rare in these parts, “but just because the two of you and all of my friends seem intent on finding someone for me, doesn’t mean that every handsome man is going to find other men to their tastes.” Arthur certainly hoped this one did. It had been much too long since he had been with anyone. He ached for the touch of another.

Really, he ached for the touch of Merlin, but that wasn’t to be, at least not anytime soon.

“Gwaine,” was Gwen’s succinct reply, a knowing grin on her face.

~AM~

_Dear Merlin,_

_Morgana and I are once again settled in at our home. It is indeed a wonderful feeling to be back in familiar surroundings, but I do miss the company of your cousin. Mithian’s hospitality was beyond what either me or my sister expected. Morgana wishes me to thank you for allowing us to stay with her. I also should thank you. It was a refreshing surprise to become acquainted with you. You have no idea how boring it is day after day to be surrounded by men who think they know it all. My entire life has been filled with such people. To know someone such as you, who does not think you own the patent on the universe and know what makes it work, is a breath of fresh air._

_I am saddened that you will not be visiting us. I was very much looking forward to meeting you in person. I am pleased for you that you can help your uncle, however, in his time of need. He is fortunate to have someone such as you to step in and take over his duties._

_I do have bad news. As I mentioned might happen in a previous letter, it has come to pass that Pendragon Estates is destined to be sold at some point; it could be years yet, but there seems to be no hope of a reprieve. I cannot tell you what a massive blow to my heart this is. These hallowed grounds are a part of me, Merlin. Just as you have Ealdor in your soul, Camelot is a part of mine. I do not know how to leave this place, but I could never remain here and not be able to live in my family home. I know you will understand._

_The good news, if there can be such a thing in all of this, is that my father’s health is once again improved. Not great, mind, but improving daily. His doctor has advised him to take it easy and get as much sleep as he can, but he is now getting around without help. So, whenever we do have to leave, he will be able to travel without worry. Wherever I go, he will go. I must say that this statement is one I never thought I’d make—my father and I do not get on particularly well—but he is my father and it is my duty to care for him. I shall do so. You would do no less for your mother._

_I very much look forward to your next correspondence._

_Yours,  
Arthur_

 

Arthur read over the words, folded the parchment, stuffed it into the envelope, and sealed it. He hoped he had not waited too late and missed Sefa before she made her way into the village to drop off the post.

Fortunately, Arthur found Sefa as she was about to leave. She was pleased to see him again, and they visited for several minutes. Arthur asked about her family and the others who worked in his family home, and she told him about her new beau, Gilli, and the latest gossip that was going around the Estate.

Sefa was one of those employees who had grown up at Pendragon Estates and, as a small child, had played with Arthur in the nursery. In fact, it was Sefa who had the dubious distinction of being the first girl Arthur had kissed.

After leaving the letter with Sefa and telling her to bring her beau to meet him soon, Arthur decided it was time to pay Gaius’s apprentice a visit.

The walk into the village was invigorating, and he passed several faces he hadn’t seen in far too long. He stopped to visit with Kara, who was out doing the shopping, a young child in tow. Mordred was on a hunt, but Arthur was given strict orders to call on them within the next few days. 

After agreeing and handing the small boy a shiny coin, Arthur continued on his way, enjoying the familiar smells of the sea. Not that Camelot was on the sea, but it was close enough to have that scent that was synonymous with salt, sand, and surf. He had missed that for the past six months.

“Arthur!” a jovial female voice called out.

Arthur turned and was delighted to see Elena and Gwaine walking hand in hand towards him. His grin would not be contained. It was down to him that these two were about to get married. He had introduced them three years earlier and, from that first moment, Arthur had known they’d one day marry.

Elena’s father had been reticent, however, and had withheld his blessing for over two years. He had finally relented weeks before Arthur’s father had taken ill.

“Elena, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Arthur said as he took her offered gloved hand and placed a kiss on it. “And you, Gwaine,” he said, turning his attention to one of his best friends, “looking as horrible as ever, I see,” he teased. There weren’t many who would ever measure up to Gwaine in the looks department.

Arthur had spent many a night dreaming about Gwaine, but he had long ago accepted that his friend was very much a ladies man. Gwaine did, however, know of Arthur’s predilections, and thus did his best to help his friend when he could. And he had. He seemed to have a never-ending supply of handsome men for Arthur to experiment with.

The thought of which reminded Arthur that Gwen had mentioned Gwaine’s name in regards to knowing that this new apprentice to Gaius might prefer the company of men. Arthur was itching to enquire about that, but the timing wasn’t right. He’d wait until he and Gwaine were alone.

Gwaine chuckled. “Yes, well, we can’t all look as devilishly handsome as you, Princess, eh?”

“And Prince Charming, you would know all about that.” Arthur winked. He dearly loved Gwaine and cherished their friendship.

“I hear your father has improved. Please give him our regards and tell him we will call on him within the fortnight,” Elena said as she allowed Gwaine to wrap her in his arms. “I do hope he will be able to attend our wedding.”

Arthur chatted with Gwaine and Elena for several more minutes but took his leave when he noticed the sun was near mid-sky. He needed to get home for luncheon and didn’t want to cut his visit with Mr. Ambrosius short.

A few minutes later he walked up the cobblestoned walkway and knocked on the door. Whilst he waited he looked around and laughed when his eyes settled upon the tree beside the house. Arthur couldn’t begin to count the number of times he had climbed that tree nor the number of times he had fallen out of it. 

Fortunately, only one of those times had resulted in a broken bone. He remembered Gaius giving him a harsh talking to after he had fallen out of the tree and broken his arm, telling him that he was too young to be acting like one of the ancient knights of Camelot, and that if he wanted to wield a sword, there were better places to do so than standing in a tree.

Arthur had taken Gaius seriously, and once his arm had healed, he, Gwaine, Sefa, and the others who lived on or near Arthur’s family’s property had begun meeting just inside the gate, challenging each other to fights, to the death.

Fake deaths had been the fad of the day for well over a year.

The door opened, interrupting Arthur’s memories, and out walked a stunning young man, presumably Mr. Ambrosius, who was probably around the same age as him. He had the bluest eyes Arthur had ever seen, and his cheekbones were a thing of beauty. And if that wasn’t enough to take his breath away, the man’s hair begged to be carded through with long, nimble fingers.

There were little brownish-black curls framing his pale face and large ears, and they covered his head in wavy curls that didn’t stop. They fell over his forehead and covered it in fringe that fell into his right eye. It was unkempt and would be frowned upon by any of the elders in the village, but, to Arthur, the hairstyle, whether purposely styled that way or not, was quite becoming.

And that smile…

“Hello,” said the man, his voice deep and lovely. “May I help you?”

“Erm,” Arthur cleared his throat. He was twenty-five years of age, for goodness sake. He was no longer a boy whose body would betray him at every turn. He could control himself. Only, that wasn’t happening, and Arthur was becoming more uncomfortable with each passing second. 

He smiled, praying that Merlin wasn’t aware of how tight his breeches had become. “I am here to visit with you about my father. I understand you have taken over his care whilst Gaius is ill.” That hadn’t been too bad, but all the same, Arthur was still much more flustered than he wanted to be. He had intended to ask several questions, but perhaps another visit would be advisable.

“Yes, my uncle came down with a bad cold and asked me to come help him,” the other said, a small smirk forming. It only added to the allure. Arthur was done for.

“I hope he will be back soon,” was Arthur’s immediate retort, but when the other looked somewhat affronted, Arthur cleared his throat. He probably could have said that more tactfully. “Not that I don’t think you are competent, but I don’t know you, do I? I do know Gaius, however. He has treated our family since before I was born.”

A deepening frown from the beautiful man who had managed to completely unnerve Arthur made him wish he hadn’t said that last bit about wanting Gaius back, but he’d meant it. It had been another doctor, and not Gaius, after all, who had been attending his mother when she had died soon after Arthur’s birth. So, it was understandable that Arthur didn’t like anyone other than Gaius when it came to caring for his family. If this man took offense, that was too bad. 

Arthur couldn’t put aside his personal feelings, even for someone as attractive as Mr. Ambrosius.

“As I said, he has a bad cold, Sir, but nothing that should keep him down for too long,” replied the man defensively, his frown increasing. “He will most likely take some time off, however, once he is better, and convalesce; he thinks this will be a good opportunity for me to gain experience.” His words were no doubt meant to challenge; he was inviting Arthur to question him, his eyes boring into him, seeming to pierce his soul.

They were as blue as the water in the ocean.

Gorgeous eyes aside, Arthur didn’t like the callous tone Mr Ambrosius was using, but he hadn’t the time or desire to argue with the man who was caring for his father. He needed to be on good terms with him.

“I apologise, Mr Ambrosius, if I came across as ungrateful; of course, my family is thankful for your care of my father. Pardon my inexcusable lack of manners. I haven't even told you my name. I am Arthur Pendragon.”


	3. Chapter Three

Was it Arthur’s imagination or did the tiny bit of colour residing within Mr Ambrosius’s face disappear? Arthur watched as his frown deepened and as he took a step back. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

And was Mr Ambrosius looking at him that way because of his father? Most people did, after all. No matter how pleasing and affable Arthur tried to be in his dealings with others, his father’s reputation always seemed to trump that. It was disheartening, but there was nothing to do about it.

But this man was studying to be a physician. As such, his job was to treat whoever his patient was, no matter how ornery they may be, and do it willingly. It was disappointing to know that someone Gaius had obviously thought so highly of was turning out to be a disappointment.

Arthur deflated. Although the man was beautiful, he wasn’t someone Arthur wanted to spend time with. Perhaps seven years in the past Arthur could have looked past such flaws and simply allowed himself to enjoy the pleasures that he could get from being with someone like Mr Ambrosius, but he was a changed person now. He would never settle again. Yes, Arthur would continue his dalliances as he waited for the one meant for him, but those would be with people whom Arthur didn’t want. This man standing before him… Arthur very much wanted.

But he seemed combative and defensive. This physician-in-training was not at all the type of person Arthur wanted in his life.

It needed to be noted, however, that there was a voice in Arthur’s head called Morgana telling him that he was being ridiculous and that he needed to step back and examine his observations because in the past he had been less than proficient when it came to his judgments regarding men. Arthur pushed that voice away and allowed his own thoughts to take precedence. Morgana was not always right. 

Just most of the time.

As Arthur made his way home half an hour later, he berated himself. Why was it that he always fell for people who were either unattainable or complete arses?

Merlin was perfect for him in every way. No, Arthur didn’t know that much about him, not really, but he did feel it in his bones. He knew without doubt that he and Merlin would be wonderful together.

But it was never to be, was it? Merlin lived far off, and now he was even further away, helping his uncle. It was vastly unfair.

And then there was this Mr Ambrosius, who had got under Arthur’s skin. Not that Arthur had ever had any inkling that the two of them would have been good together, but it would be nice to get to know him and perhaps become friends, and see where things went.

“Arthur, dear, what has you looking so sad?” asked Morgana as she walked out to greet him. “You look as if you’ve just lost your best friend.”

Arthur glared but softened it and shook his head. “Don’t want to talk about it.” He offered his arm and together they walked into the house.

“Father is in the Living Room, ready for luncheon. Please tell me you haven’t already eaten,” Morgana said, her motherly expression almost too much for Arthur, but he didn’t have the heart to be upset with her at the moment, so he smiled.

“No, George told me earlier that Father wanted us to eat at noon.” Arthur did his best to smile but was sure he’d failed when Morgana sadly shook her head. She had to know something had happened, because before he had left, he’d been happy, looking forward to his stroll into the village.

Why couldn’t he hide his emotions like she did?

“I think Sefa has something that just might make you smile,” she said teasingly as she withdrew her arm and grinned impishly as she winked.

“A letter?” he asked, not even trying to mask his excitement, but he guessed his sister had fathomed him out on their train ride home regarding Merlin. Arthur’s heart sped up. It would be odd if there was a letter from Merlin; he had only ever written in response to Arthur’s letters and as Arthur had only recently posted his letter… but why else would Morgana have said that? When she nodded, every ounce of tension fled his body and all of his sadness and confusion regarding Mr Ambrosius left him. Merlin had written him. 

It was almost more than Arthur could stand. He wanted so very badly to run upstairs and read what Merlin had written him, but that would have to wait until after luncheon.

When he and his sister entered the dining room, their father was already seated, looking much better than he had the previous night. His colouring was normal and, although he did appear much thinner, he looked every bit as imposing as he always had. It was both reassuring and disconcerting.

Arthur was heartened to see glimpses of the man he had once looked up to, but it sent anxiety through him to know that the acerbic tongue that his father wielded could soon be directed at him once again.

However, for now, until it was proven otherwise, Arthur was going to hope that this illness had dampened his father’s need to be controlling. It was a dream, Arthur knew, but sometimes those wishful musings did come true. Or at least that is what those fairy tales said and, at the moment, Arthur needed to believe. Even if it was folly to do so.

“Thank you for joining me for luncheon, Morgana and Arthur,” their father said, his voice somewhat hoarse. He wasn’t smiling, but neither was he frowning.

Arthur half listened as his sister said something, but he soon tuned everything out as he replayed his conversation with Mr. Ambrosius, who had said Arthur’s father was progressing well, but that if he had a relapse it would probably be too much for his body to handle. It had been unsurprising to Arthur, especially with the memory of his father the night before, but now, seeing his father looking so healthy again, the thought of losing him seemed unthinkable.

Now Arthur worried about what would happen when the day came that they had to leave their home. Would it be too much for his father to handle?

“Arthur, Father is asking you a question,” Morgana whispered in his ear, grinning, trying to look as if she weren’t secretly wanting to slap Arthur to get his head in the conversation.

Arthur cleared his throat as he sat up straighter and looked at his father. “Erm, sorry, what were you saying, Father?” he asked, hoping he had not just done something to set the man off, but when his father gave him a slight smile, which the old Uther would have never done, it set Arthur at ease, at least somewhat.

“I was just asking if you had met Gaius’s nephew? He is a cousin of Mithian’s, and I thought perhaps the two of you had met when you were staying with her. He is studying to become a doctor, but he— Arthur? Are you okay?” his father asked when the colour drained from his son’s face.

Arthur looked over at Morgana, whose face resembled what his must, before returning his attention to his father. Arthur’s heart was beating so fast that he was sure it was about to burst forth from his chest. He began to stand, but his father cleared his throat.

Arthur felt faint. His breathing became erratic. Morgana whispered in his ear for him to calm down and to breathe normally. Arthur wasn’t sure he could, but he tried, and eventually, with the help of his sister, he no longer felt as if he would pass out. But he was cold. He shook his head as he finally looked into his sister’s eyes. If his father hadn’t thought anything was wrong before, he certainly did now. Arthur began to panic again, but his sister was rubbing circles on his back and whispering in his ear.

“Morgana, could you please give Arthur and me a moment?” his father asked. He didn’t sound upset; in fact, he sounded concerned, but Arthur worried all the same as he continued looking down at the table. He couldn’t bear it if his father was about to grill him. It had to be obvious that his father was on to him; his father did, after all, know his son quite well.

“Can we have this talk later, Father? I’m not feeling well,” Arthur said, and he meant it. Not only was he feeling faint, his stomach was roiling.

It was a punch to the gut.

He had been face to face with Merlin and had treated him deplorably. Arthur felt weak in the knees. He had messed up before, but never like this.

When Arthur next heard his father’s voice it was right next to him, and he guessed Morgana had left the room, although he couldn’t be sure. Arthur dared glance up and was surprised to see his father looking at him with concern, which was almost worse than him yelling or saying something acerbic. Arthur just wished his father would get on with it.

“I didn’t know if you would have met Merlin, Arthur, but from your reaction, there is obviously something I am missing. As you have always been an open book, it isn’t hard to guess just what that is. Are you and Merlin involved?” his father then asked. He didn’t sound upset like Arthur would have expected. Arthur shook his head, but that would hardly satisfy his father. Arthur took a deep breath.

“I hadn’t met him in person before today, but when I was at Mithian’s, we exchanged letters. When I saw him today I had no idea who he was—I knew his surname to be Emrys. I am afraid I gave him a poor first impression.”

Arthur hoped that had been enough. What more was there to say? He wanted to crawl under the table and hide, the same as he had done as a small child when playing hide and seek. He put his face in his hands and scrubbed his eyes. He would not cry in front of his father. When he heard his father clearing his throat, he looked up.

“According to Gaius, Merlin uses his mother’s surname in his schooling and apprenticeship; it seems that it opens more doors than Emrys.”

Arthur nodded. That seemed logical. Ambrosius was in _Burke’s Peerage._ Emrys was not. Arthur hadn’t thought Merlin would be concerned about things such as surnames, but his mother would want her son to have the best opportunities, wouldn’t she? Arthur had never met the woman, but he already liked her.

“I cannot be sure, Arthur,” his father said, interrupting his son’s thoughts, “but Merlin seems like a fair person to me, the type to not be quick to judge. Knowing you, and I do, because you are far too much like me, I am quite certain you did manage to do something to disappoint him, but, like me, you are not one to give up so easily, am I right?” his father asked.

Was Arthur hearing correctly? He lowered his hands and stared at his father, wondering what had happened to the man he’d known for twenty-five years. He finally nodded, not knowing what to say.

“What you need to do is go over there after you pull yourself together, and talk to Merlin. If you were in the wrong, then admit such. Us Pendragons are known for our tempers; that has been my downfall, Arthur, but it doesn’t need to be yours.” He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “It has taken me a very long time to come to terms with you, Arthur. You are the antithesis of me in almost every way, and I do not know how to talk to you. But my nearly dying has taught me some valuable lessons, and the most important is that I do not want to lose you, and I fear I have because of my inability to accept you. It’s still difficult, but you need to live the life you are supposed to, without me telling you what to do. I have lived my life. Now it is time for you to live yours.”

When he was finished, he placed a hand atop Arthur’s. “I am sorry, son.” He then closed his eyes for several seconds before reopening them and trying to smile. It was a poor attempt, but it was more than enough for Arthur, and he returned the smile. He didn’t even try to say anything, but he nodded and knew that would be enough.

When a stunned Arthur left the Dining Room a few minutes later, Morgana was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, looking worried. Arthur didn’t know what to say. He still wasn’t quite sure everything had played out the way he thought; it seemed too good to be true.

“Morgs, I’m not sure, but I think I just got the approval of our father regarding Merlin.” Arthur was still in some sort of shock and worried that he was dreaming.

“So, Merlin is Gaius’s nephew? Oh, Arthur, this is wonderful,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Now you need to go wash your face and get yourself over there and beg his forgiveness so I don’t have to listen to your incessant pining over him any longer.”

Arthur was about to do that very thing, but then he remembered the letter that was waiting for him.

After washing up and changing shirts, he retrieved the letter.

 

_My Dearest Arthur,_

_I have the best news! Remember I told you I was going to help my uncle? My uncle lives in Camelot. I can hardly believe it! We will finally meet. It is not anything I could have ever dreamt of. I know we talked about it, but my luck has never been good, so I made up my mind that all you would ever be was someone I wrote. It is somewhat surreal to know that we might finally meet._

_I will admit to being somewhat reticent, however. Writing letters is one thing—as much as I feel like I know you and feel a connection, I really do not know you, do I? And you do not know me. I don’t trust easily, and I am afraid I put much trust in the person I conjured you to be in my mind, but as my mother has always told me, it is unlikely that what I create in my mind will ever match what the truth is._

_So when we meet, I hope you will not judge me too harshly if my reaction is somewhat muted. I will not be disappointed if I do not live up to what you thought I would be._

_I fear I have once again babbled and made a mess of this letter, but I think you will understand._

_Yours,  
Merlin_

 

Arthur threw the letter on the bed, ran down the stairs, out the door, and all the way into the village. He didn’t stop until he stood outside of Gaius’s.

He was twenty-five, he was the son of Uther Pendragon, Earl of Albion, and he was as good as royalty to the small children of the village, but none of that mattered to him. At this very moment the only thing that did was that on the other side of the door was someone whom Arthur had come to like very much, and earlier in the day he had probably ruined his chance of happiness with Merlin.

Arthur hadn’t ever wanted for anything, not really, but, then again he had never needed much. He had friends who were spoiled and had been that way since birth, but all he’d ever wanted was to be loved and to make his father proud of him by carrying on the legacy that he’d been given.

Those were the things important to him…

 _Important_. Arthur felt his heartbeat speeding up as he thought back to the conversation he’d had with his father. His father had asked him if there was anything more important to him than Pendragon Estates.

Arthur closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and knocked. He could again feel his heart thudding. What if Merlin was out? Perhaps he was tending a patient. Maybe he had gone into the village to get supplies. What if he was inside and knew it was Arthur and wasn’t answering on purpose? Or...

The door opened. Arthur slowly opened his eyes to see the same handsome man he’d seen earlier.

“I am guessing you know who I am?” Merlin said, matter-of-factly, his arms crossed over his chest.

Arthur nodded.

Merlin let out a derisive laugh. “My mother told me that you were just like your father and that I should be wary, but I didn’t listen. No, I defended you. Please tell me I was not wrong to do so,” Merlin said, practically begging Arthur to assure him that he had not been wrong.

Arthur had no idea what to say, but he would have to think of something. “I don’t know, Merlin, only you can be the judge of that, but what I do know is that my father has just given me his blessing regarding us. I still don’t know what to think of that, but if he did that for me, then you must be someone he trusts with his life. He has never approved of my preferring men. I wasn’t very nice to you earlier, and I can’t take that back, nor can I say that I will never act like that again, but what I can promise is that I have never felt the way I feel for you before. If I have messed this up, then I’ll have to live with that, but I hope you’ll forgive me. I want a chance to make it up to you.”

Arthur could only hope Merlin would agree as his heart continued to race. He wasn’t sure he had ever been that forthright to anyone in his life. Unfortunately, it was obvious that Merlin wasn’t sure—his face appeared to go through every emotion possible within a few seconds—but Arthur had to believe that he had pleaded his case as well as he could have.

Merlin sighed rather heartily, but it was followed by a small smile. Arthur didn’t know what to make of that, but he held his breath. Merlin would have to say something sooner or later. He hoped it would be sooner.

“The first day I took over the care of your father, Arthur, before I’d even been told who he was, he told me he had a son who would be returning soon and that if I wasn’t planning to stay in Camelot, that I best not befriend him. I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I do now,” he said, a genuine smile slowly lighting his face. “When I see him in the morning I think I should clarify that I have no plans to leave.”

Arthur nodded, but he still wasn’t sure what this meant. He wanted to think that things were looking positive, but recent events being what that were, well, he didn’t have much faith in anything anymore. He tried to smile, but he knew it didn’t work and he found himself more than a little anxious as he waited.

“I’d like to get to know the person whose letters made me want to meet you,” Merlin finally said, the smile gone. “But if you aren’t that person, I cannot do this, Arthur. I won’t settle.” Merlin shook his head and looked behind him briefly. “I won’t,” he repeated in an almost whisper.

“I am that person,” Arthur said, wishing he didn’t sound distressed and desperate, but as he was both… “Truly. I think the person who wrote you those letters is more the real me than the person who my father or sister knows. You know far more about me than anyone else, Merlin.” 

Arthur knew at this point that he had bared his soul; if Merlin didn’t accept his words, then there was nothing else to be done. So, when Merlin’s eyes crinkled and his mouth smiled, it was beautiful. Just maybe this would have a happy ending. Arthur certainly hoped so.

“I am on my way to see a patient on the other side of the village and my afternoon is full,” Merlin said, an apologetic expression on his face, “but I have tomorrow free. Maybe we could go have a picnic with Gwen and your sister?” Merlin said… or asked. Arthur wasn’t sure which, but that smile of Merlin’s... it was doing things to Arthur’s heart. It seemed that Merlin was giving him another chance.

“Yes we should do that,” Arthur said as quickly and calmly as was possible under the circumstances. He wanted to ask how Merlin knew that Gwen and his sister were together, but that was a question best left for later. “I’m really sorry for acting like such a jerk, Merlin.”

“How sorry are you?” Merlin asked cheekily as he winked.

“Very,” Arthur replied as he winked back, taking a few steps closer until there was little space between them. He did a cursory glance around, and when he didn’t see anyone he took a breath and slowly let it out. “Would it be permissible for me to kiss you?” After Merlin nodded, Arthur leaned in and smiled when Merlin closed his eyes in anticipation. Arthur knew at that moment that his heart was Merlin’s. When their lips met, it was so much more than he could have ever imagined. It was magic.

He could have kissed Merlin for hours, but Arthur pulled back a few seconds later and collected his thoughts. There was much to say, but at the moment Arthur would settle for that beautiful smile directed at him. He caressed the side of Merlin’s face and tucked a curl behind his ear and followed that up with another brief kiss.

But he should probably take his leave. Merlin needed to go see patients, and Arthur needed some time to think about everything that was happening. As happy as he was with the prospect of him and Merlin finally being together, he feared he would end up messing things up; that seemed his forte, after all. 

Perhaps he’d go over to Gwen’s and convince Morgana to go riding with him. She had a way of making him laugh and see the joy in life when he needed it the most. He was about to take his leave when Merlin took Arthur’s hands in his and looked serious.

Oh no. This was where Merlin said the kiss had been nice but couldn’t happen again.

“Don’t look so miserable, Arthur. Am I that bad a kisser?” Merlin asked with a sly grin and a wink. Arthur shook his head and sputtered, but Merlin stopped him with a finger to his lip. “Sh,” he whispered. “My turn.”

Arthur began to frown out of habit; he had never been one to take orders from anyone other than Grunhilda when he was a child and his father at all times. He had followed those begrudgingly, but with Merlin, Arthur thought he’d gladly do as asked. He grinned and nodded, finding it almost impossible to accept that he really was possibly about to get what he’d wanted since discovering that he preferred men rather than women. 

“Go ahead,” he whispered.

Merlin looked somewhat uncomfortable. “You aren’t the only one who should apologise, Arthur; in fact, you owe me no apology at all for your words earlier. I was yours when you told me who you were this morning. You weren’t rude to me in the least; you were worried about your father. If you think I was going to give you up because you deigned to worry about your father’s level of care, then you do not know me.” Merlin followed his words with a nervous laugh. “Now you should probably go before I pull you inside and do unspeakable things to you at the expense of my poor uncle, who is sleeping upstairs.”

When Arthur finally left Gaius’s house, an hour later, after agreeing to go riding with Merlin the following morning—and after Merlin had done unspeakable things to him after he had promised not to make too much noise—Arthur took a detour and made his way to Gwen’s.

He very nearly couldn’t believe any of what had happened was in deed real, and if he went home he knew self-doubt would wend its way into his thoughts. To escape that fate, he knew his best course of action was to go see his sister and Gwen so they could keep him company.

They would no doubt tell him more stories of their adventures of the previous year when they’d gone to the Valley of the Fallen Kings and met up with two nomads called Tristan and Isolde. Arthur had his doubts as to their authenticity, but he would enjoy the tales all the same. If things worked out the way he hoped, perhaps he and Merlin would one day soon go on their own adventures.

And, speaking of Merlin, Arthur needed to speak with his father and tell him there was _something more important to him than Pendragon Estates_.


End file.
